


The Lessons

by seriousfic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriousfic/pseuds/seriousfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of Regina's mother, Emma would give anything to make peace. But all she has to offer is herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by standbackufools

Emma found Regina in the mausoleum, lying in front of a pile of hearts. They glowed, the only light in the darkened room, a sickly light that made the tomb look as blood-smeared as a slaughterhouse. Behind her, the boxes that had held the hearts laid scattered on the ground, their metal glinting against the light. That was what disturbed Emma the most. It was all so messy. Regina was never messy. Not the Regina she knew.

 

"I've actually forgotten who all these belonged to. Awfully careless of me. But do you think that if I crushed them all, I'd get someone Mary-Margaret loves?" Regina said, as if Emma weren't there, or weren't the daughter of her arch-nemesis, or was just a convenient thing to hear her innermost thoughts. Draw the venom out of the wound. "She loves everyone, right? But that's what makes it so meaningless. Because she can always love other people and I will never have anyone who would be… _satisfied_ with me the way Mother was."

 

Emma felt a tingle in her gut, an unpleasant feeling. Like she wished she had her gun and was glad she hadn't brought it, all at once. "Don't do anything you'll regret."

 

"I would've put them back if someone had asked. If someone had just asked. You all knew I had them, you all knew what that meant. I thought you wanted the leverage. After all, you never know when a heart will come in handy. Maybe I should've offered. I was thinking about it, the morning Hopper was murdered. Or not murdered; it is so hard to keep track of these things, isn't it?"

 

"I came here to talk, Regina. We can talk about anything you want. But maybe we should just set those aside… or something."

 

Regina continued, in a louder voice that echoed dimly through the tomb. "You almost had me believing it. I almost thought that I really was the Evil Queen, and Snow White was good, and pure, and would welcome me into her grandson's life with open arms if only I let her be. But that's wrong. She's the Evil Queen."

 

"She made a mistake. She's a person."

 

"Yes. A mistake." Regina rose slowly. Her unsteady legs staggered around the hearts, her heel nearly burying itself in one. Emma winced but didn't let herself move. "And she's _so_ sorry. She just regrets it to bits. So if I can just let it go… pretend it never happened… _move on_ with my life… then I can find someone else that matters to me. And she can kill them too. An innocent little accident."

 

"That's what I came here to talk about."

 

"Oh?" Regina asked, and stepped over the hearts. Emma breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't so much as brush against them. Only now Regina was in her face and Emma could _feel_ the power coming off her, magic like a swarm of bees under her skin, aching to break out and sting. "Oh _really_?"

 

"Yes. Really," Emma said. As Regina stood motionless in front of her, expectant, somehow more threatening than if she were _doing_ anything. Emma wondered if this was how she'd feel trying to defuse a bomb. "You have every right to be angry, but Cora was… she was a threat. She had to be stopped."

 

And, almost impossibly, Regina got closer. She bent forward toward Emma, like copper wire to a magnet. "If Mary-Margaret had wanted that, she could've crushed her heart the moment she found it. Or just forced her to go to jail, meek as a kitten. We have one of those. It's quite comfortable, as I'm sure you're aware. But using me— _me_ —to get her revenge? That's something I would do. It's what you do when you want to _win._ "

 

"This isn't a game, Regina. We don't have to keep scoring points off each other. We can negotiate. We can try to reach an understanding—"

 

"I understand. I absolutely understand. She'll never forgive me for the death of her father. And neither will her friends. But she doesn't have the strength of darkness. She can't stand the thought of having me loose, hating her, plotting against her. She wants to feel safe in her nice, warm bed with her nice, warm family. So she'll play at being the innocent like she always has to make me _go away_ so she can hate and despise me in peace."

 

"That's not true."

 

"Isn't it?" Regina looked down, to Emma's attire. The usual, jeans and a leather jacket, with a gray hoodie underneath that had an ex-boyfriend's college logo on the front. Regina plucked a corner of the jacket and lifted it a few inches. No more than that, but Emma felt herself start to sweat. "You've known Snow White for a few months, and most of that was a lie. Well, an irony. What if Snow White really were as sickly sweet as she made herself out to be? But I—I can't even remember my life without her in it. I know her better than you ever will. I know the truth she lies to keep from herself. How, odd as it seems, things always just seem to work out for her."

 

"Like the time she refused to take a life to save her mother's?" Emma asked, fraying, frustration showing in her knotted jaw. "To save her from your mother's poison?"

 

"I never said she wasn't weak. Just that weakness and ruthlessness make for an ugly combination. You should be glad I spared you her upbringing. Brought up in the lap of luxury, you would've been as spoiled as her."

 

"I'd have taken my chances," Emma said tersely. "Look, you wanna vent, I can get us some beer, we'll vent. I may not know much, but I'm a helluva drinking buddy. But if you want to negotiate—"

 

"You keep saying that word." Regina took a step back, the leather of Emma's jacket slipping from her fingers. "What exactly do you think it means?"

 

"Restitution. Some kind of truce. I don't know, name your terms."

 

Regina laughed. It was almost a cackle, a clichéd evil witch sound, but too broken to be that. It was a noise you'd make when you needed to show your pain, but couldn't let it be in tears. "They don't know you're here, do they?"

 

Emma said nothing, which was as good as saying everything.

 

"The Savior! Not enough to break the curse, now she'll end the blood feud! You child. You pathetic, ignorant, _willfully_ ignorant—child! Meddling in affairs you can't hope to understand—"

 

"No, I get it. She hurt you, you want payback. Happened in the orphanage all the time. Someone broke something, someone stole something, we settled it in trade. There must be something you want."

 

"Your mother's heart." Regina smiled like a scalpel was cutting it across her face. "Since she's _so_ sorry, _so_ remorseful… why don't you have her reach into her chest and pull out her heart for me?"

 

"Not an option. The deal is for you not to come near my family again. What's that worth to you?"

 

"Gold."

 

Emma's brow furrowed. "Like… jewelry?"

 

"Rumpelstiltskin, _child._ As responsible as I find Snow White for all this, I'd be remiss to leave out that old sorcerer. He benefited from my mother's death. You want to make restitution, that's a good start."

 

"I can't just kill him!" Emma cried, exasperated despite herself. She couldn't believe how bloody-minded Regina was. Well, she could—but she'd been trying to think better of Regina than that. "He's Henry's grandfather."

 

Regina blinked a few times. "Well now. Is there anyone that little runt isn't related to? I should've gotten a cat. But this is good for you—you can make restitution and protect your son, all with the same bullet."

 

"I'm not killing anyone!"

 

Now Regina sighed. "Perhaps I was wrong about you. You are weak. Possibly it's an issue of the blood. But as long as we're on the subject of Henry—he listens to you. If you told him to stay with me, he'd listen. And I'm sure you'd find ways to keep in touch. Perhaps this Twitter I've heard so much about."

 

"I'm not giving Henry to anyone who asks for two people dead before she wants him."

 

Regina's face twisted, stung. "That's the problem with you people. You're not willing to make any sacrifices because you have things just the way you want them. You know nothing of loss or compromise. Shall we go down the list? Let you say no to me having Ruby as a wine taster or Grumpy as a valet? What grand gesture are you going to attempt to make up for my mother's murder? Do my laundry for me? What are you prepared to sacrifice?"

 

"Ask something of me. Not Mary-Margaret. Not Gold. Not my kid. Me. Then we can talk."

 

"And what do you have that I want? Natural blonde hair?" Regina chuckled. "Amateur hour magic?"

 

And then Regina stopped. _Thinking._ Emma could see it in her eyes, that look she'd given on their first meeting. Cold, calculating appraisal. Ever since then, Regina had dismissed her, or at least written her off, mind made up. Now she stepped to the left, beginning to circle Emma, who felt compelled to hold herself still as a deer in headlights.

 

"Amateur… hour… magic…" Regina stomped down on each word like she would make wine with it. Emma felt as if she were being weighed and measured a thousand times over, and there was something bizarrely flattering about it. "Your family has taken everyone that I love from me. Now all that's left for me is power. You want something to offer me? More power."

 

"That hasn't made you happy so far. What's a little more going to do?"

 

"Power is freedom. Freedom from fear, for what fear have I of those less powerful than me? Freedom from hate, since I can destroy those I hate and be done with them. With Mother, our twined magic made us a force to be reckoned with. Restitution would entail I return to that state of power. Not as the apprentice. As the master. Tell me, child… hasn't Gold been grooming you for his side?"

 

"I'm nobody's sidekick," Emma said, but with Regina behind her, the words drifted into empty space. She looked to her right, expecting Regina to continue circling, but the witch was poised directly behind her.

 

"Has there been one spell you've cast that wasn't his idea, done on his instruction? He intends for you to prostrate yourself before him. Well, why should he have all the fun? Be my apprentice. Serve me and I'll leave Snow White alone."

 

"You're kidding, right?"

 

Emma felt Regina's gaze travel down her spine like a hot iron. "You don't seriously expect me to forego revenge for forgiveness. But I'd be willing to forego vengeance for power. It's the only card you have to play."

 

"And what do _you_ get out of teaching _me_ magic?"

 

"Oh dear, you don't know how an apprenticeship works, do you? You'd fulfill my every command, carry out my every whim. The only reason I'd be teaching you is to make you a more efficient servant. You would be mine, Emma. Body and soul."

 

"How about nine to five?" Emma asked. "Because if you want to kill me, just say so, I'll bargain you down to a couple toes. But I'm not going to be your slave."

 

"Of course. You want time to spend with your ill-gotten family. Well, I'll try to teach you the ancient powers of the universe on a schedule. And I won't even be capricious in your punishments."

  
"Whoa, wait, punishments?"

 

"Why, of course, child. If you fail at my teachings, I must teach you _some_ lesson."

 

"So, what, I don't bring you breakfast in bed and you throw acid in my face? No thanks. I'll take my chances going to war with you. It worked out well the last time."

 

"You mean when your son was almost poisoned to death?" Regina puffed air from her cheeks. "I'll put it in the contract. No lasting harm. And don't worry. I'll be sure to reward you if you perform well."

 

Emma gulped. Neither of those sounded particularly pleasant. But Regina struck her as a cat with a toy. Whatever hell she put her through, she'd lose interest in it eventually. After all, after the Curse, she'd left her enemies with no more than white people problems for twenty-eight years. Emma could put up with this. She'd survived worse.

 

"And in exchange, you'll leave my family alone? David, Mary-Margaret, Neal, Henry…"

 

Suddenly, Emma felt Regina's arm clamped around her neck, the air stolen from her lungs. "Don't you dare imply I'd hurt Henry. Don't even think it." She held her grip for a few more moments, Emma turning blue as she struggled in vain, before shoving the other woman to the floor. "See? Punishment."

 

Emma had landed in front of a glowing heart. This close, it seemed blinding. "Yeah, last time I saw a teacher like you, it was in a Cameron Diaz movie. Just promise."

 

"Better yet… I'll sign on it." With a wave of her hand, Regina summoned up a scroll. She knelt down beside Emma, unrolling it. "Simple terms, as you can see. Your magic is mine to do with as I see fit, in exchange for the safety of you and your loved ones." Before Emma's eyes, she signed it with a fountain pen, which she then dropped in front of Emma. "Your turn."

 

Emma picked up the pen. "Just so you know… if anything happens to Mary-Margaret, I don't care what kind of contract this is. I'll get to you."

 

"Stop worrying about your mother, Emma. Start worrying about yourself."

 

With a deep breath, Emma signed it.

 

Instantly, she was hoisted up by magic, up to her feet. Regina regarded her with a winning smile. "Excellent! Let's get started."

 

"Right. What do we start with, Regina, card tricks or bunnies in hats?"

 

"General character-building. Oh," Regina paused thoughtfully, tapping her chin with exaggerated mindfulness. "And you should refer to me as Mistress. It's the proper terminology."

 

"And if I don't?"

 

Regina waved her hand. Suddenly, Emma was very aware of the nose on the left of her vision.

 

She was blind in one eye.

 

"What'd you…" she felt at her eye, wincing when she poked herself in it. It was still there, she just couldn't… see out of it. "Regina!"

 

"It can be rectified," Regina said amicably. "As soon as you show the proper respect."

 

"Mistress. Alright, okay? Mistress."

 

"Thank you for being so reasonable," Regina said, and it was written on every inch of her how much she was enjoying this. "And since you were so quick to correct yourself, I'll restore your eyesight in no more than an hour. Be sure to remind me. Come. There's work to be done."

 

"Regi—Mistress, you can't leave me like this!" Emma started after her, as Regina briskly left the tomb. She kept trying to open her eye, and though her eyelids obeyed her, nothing happened. "What if I… bump into something?"

 

Neither of them looked back at the hearts littering the floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one isn't going to be updated for a while. I have a couple other stories to finish first, but I wanted to get this out there after last Sunday's episode (The Miller's Daughter) so people would understand it before it gets Jossed by the next episode. Oh, and I might as well admit to shameless plagiarism of both Paint It Black and the Harry Potter series, so don't think you're clever if you point that out.


	2. Chapter 2

Regina tossed the shovel to Emma's feet. "Dig."

 

"You're kidding me." Regina pointed at her. "You're kidding me, _mistress_."

 

"Six feet deep," Regina said. "Though I'll forgive you if you aren't precise. You should have it done by the time I get back."

 

Emma stared at the shovel, Regina, and her surroundings. The graveyard had never looked creepier. As if in commiseration with the day's dark events, a fog had rolled in and turned the headstones into the bones of a desiccated body.

 

"You're leaving me alone in a cemetery to dig a grave?" Emma demanded.

 

"I thought you'd appreciate that I don't micromanage. Now, don't wander off, I'd hate to have to find you. And so would you." With a puff of purple smoke, Regina was gone.

 

Emma watched as the purple faded into the mist. "Shit."

 

She checked her phone. Mary-Margaret had called again, asking where she was, no doubt. Emma texted back _Safe_ and shut her phone off. She had no time for a conversation now. She had digging to do.

 

***

 

"I believe that's seven feet, Emma. But who's counting?"

 

Emma looked up from the hole she'd dug herself into, the symbolism badgering her like a high school English course. Regina stood above her, where the headstone would be. Judging from the mad glee in her eyes, Emma could only imagine how she looked in comparison to the witch, immaculate in funeral wear.

 

"Give me a hand up?"

 

"Of course, my apprentice." Regina waved her hand and again, magic hoisted Emma up out of the grave. Then deposited her roughly on her backside, across the grave from Regina. Emma's stomach flew around a little more before settling.

 

"And it's been an hour," Emma reminded her, unable to stop her blind eye from blinking repeatedly. "Mistress."

 

"Well, I suppose you've learned your lesson."

 

A quick snap of her fingers and Emma could see again, out of both eyes. One tearing up might have been biology, but both was relief. She wiped her face quickly.

 

"Now let's be done with it." Another practiced gesture and Emma could see a shrouded object float through the air, into the grave. It was hard to make out what it was, the thing was wrapped so tightly in blankets, but it was about the size of…

 

Oh. Emma felt herself blanch. _Oh God…_

"Who is that?" she demanded.

 

"Who do you think it is?" Regina replied. "Your mother, being buried alive? It's mine, you dolt! Being laid to rest!"

 

Emma looked downcast, shocked to find shame coloring her cheeks. This whole 'come to the Dark Side' thing had her defenses all the way up, her thinking entirely on Regina being a supervillain. And yet, she'd just lost her mother. It was all just… a big fucking aggravation.

 

"Sorry," she said, mostly sincere.

 

Regina ignored her, using more magic to fill the grave with dirt. Emma wondered why she hadn't done that to empty it, but of course, it was because it'd be more fun for Regina to watch her cover herself in muck.

 

"Now," Regina said, folding her hands together. "Say something."

 

"What?"

 

"Say something. A prayer. A eulogy."

 

"What, _me?_ I'm not… she's your mother."

 

"Yes, I put up with the bitch long enough. Your turn. Say something." Regina raised her joined hands, as if in prayer, but both of them knew it was a threat. "Or are you disobeying me?"

 

"No. I'll, uhh… go." Emma cleared her throat and looked down at the loosely packed dirt. Not even a headstone. "Cora Mills—"

  
"Just Cora," Regina interrupted.

 

Emma caught herself from a retort. Even if she weren't Regina's apprentice, she was at a funeral. "Cora was a… complex woman. I didn't know her very well, but we had our differences. Mostly, her wanting to kill me, and me not wanting her to."

 

Regina shot her a sidelong glance. Emma stared right back at her and pressed on.

 

"She wasn't a very good mother, but at least she provided an example of what not to do. Her daughter turned out to be a much better mother than she was, because her grandson was raised better than either of them."

 

Now Regina looked away, and as if freed, Emma dropped her head. As she spoke, the bitterness dropped away. Cora had been far worse to Regina than she ever had been to Emma, so if Emma could appease her by focusing on the odd good point—well, maybe it'd be good karma for wherever the old witch ended up.

 

"And for all the evil she did, she cared for her daughter. And it's good having someone to care for you, even if they don't know the right way to show it. At the end of the day, despite everything else… she had someone who cared for her. And that's not too bad."

 

Emma looked up. Of everything she'd prepared for, setting off to negotiate a truce between her family and Regina's, she wasn't prepared for what she saw.

 

Regina was sobbing.

 

Emma took a step toward her, automatically wanting to comfort, then remembered the grave between them. She moved to walk around it, but her foot found a dry twig. The snap brought Regina back to her senses.

 

"Take off your clothes," Regina said, without a single hitch in her deadly voice.

 

"What?"

 

"Your clothes. They're filthy. As your mistress, they reflect poorly on me. Take them off."

 

"Listen, Regina, I am not your plaything—"

 

"You're precisely that." Regina pointed at her and everything went black. Emma's eyes were open, but she couldn't see a thing. "I could rip your fingers off one by one. I could pluck your eyes from their sockets, I could cut your ears from your scalp, I could slice the tongue out of that pretty little mouth. And I could undo it all the next day. No lasting harm? You'd be amazed what I could do to you without leaving so much as a scratch."

 

Just as fast, Emma's vision was restored to her. She saw Regina sitting on a headstone, hands folded in her lap. "Now. Take off your clothes. You can do it now or I can take you home and teach you a lesson and then you can do it anyway. In front of Henry's school, perhaps, or in the middle of town square. It's all up to you. No micromanaging, remember?"

 

Angrily, Emma went to work, doing everything as brusquely and quickly as possible. It was meant to give Regina no satisfaction, but the angry way she ripped her hoodie off clearly amused the woman. Emma paused, down to her undershirt, and Regina pointedly tapped her watch.

 

Emma broke the buckle on her belt, popped the button on her jeans, and slid them down her legs. Now embarrassment flooded in. She looked at Regina looking at her, and felt her breathing quicken. The woman was clearly enjoying this on at least a few levels and Emma wondered just how straight she was.

 

She stopped, in her panties and shirt. "I don't suppose I could have some privacy, Mistress."

 

"Why? It's just us girls."

 

Emma stripped her shirt off and felt Regina's eyes on her bra, with a ridiculous sense of… flustering. It was like part of her liked having Regina stare at her underwear, or at least was pleased with Regina's… attention. _Yeah, drink it in, bitch._

 

Regina stood, clapping slowly, and stepped forward. "Who would've guessed you'd make such a poor stripper. Well, we're about done for the day. I'll let you go in a moment. But first, a little laundry. I picked up some cleaning supplies while I was out."

 

A gesture and a shopping bag flew to Regina. She laid it down in front of Emma. Inside was a bottle of lighter fluid and a book of matches.

 

"I see now that the problem isn't the mud, that's actually quite becoming in a savage sort of way. It's the clothes. They simply have to _go._ "

 

"You want me to set fire to my clothes," Emma repeated dully.

 

"Your mother killed mine and you're quibbling over cleaning out your closet. For a savior, you can be very petty."

 

Emma wouldn't give her the satisfaction of continued, amusing resistance. Sorting her personal possessions from the clothing and dropping them in the shopping bag, she doused the pile of clothes. Struck a match. Dropped it in.

 

The flare of fire illuminated the most sinister smile Emma had ever seen. Emma just stared back at her, now sure it was the only resistance she could muster. But she did it unafraid, unembarrassed, her hands at her sides.

 

Regina took a notepad from her pocket and penned something on it, before ripping the page off and handing it to Emma. "My tailor. Go see her tonight. She'll have you attired in something more suitable for our lesson tomorrow."

 

"Yeah. Can't wait." Emma snatched the page and turned to go.

 

"Emma? Where do you think you're going?"

 

Emma felt herself begin to growl. "To the tailor. Like you said."

 

"Dressed like that?" Regina took her coat off. "Really, Emma. How uncivilized. Put this on."

 

The moment Emma took examining the coat Regina handed her, as if she could detect any spell that'd been cast on it, amused Regina too much for her to believe it really was rigged. She put it on. The break against the cold air was a relief, but she didn't feel any more covered for the fact that she wasn't nude anymore. Regina could just order her to take it right back off.

 

"Go into town," Regina said, repeating her orders as if teaching a small child. "Get proper clothes. And try not to flash anyone while you're out. You're my apprentice now. Your body is mine and mine alone."

 

As Emma walked away, her body shockingly warm in Regina's coat, it occurred to her how true that was. She was Regina's. And there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.


	3. Chapter 3

Back home—and what a laugh it was, trying to apply that phrase to her estranged mother's alter-ego's apartment—there was a war council. People Emma had never thought of as generals or resistance fighters—for Christ's sake, Granny was there polishing a crossbow—were poring over maps of Storybrooke spread on the kitchen island. They were plotting evacuation routes and defense parameters. Emma had never seen Regina unleash her full power, but she had fought a dragon—and Regina had chained Maleficent up like a junkyard dog.

 

Part of her wondered what she could do with that power, but the only answer was Regina's bidding.

 

“Where were you?” Mary-Margaret demanded as soon as Emma came through the door, twenty-eight years of Emma being taken from her fighting their way to the forefront. “You can't just wander off alone, if Regina got to you--”

 

“She's not—she won't. I talked to her...”

 

“ _You did what?_ ”

 

“I talked to her,” Emma repeated slowly, twenty-eight years of rebelling against parents who weren't there. “It's what we do here when we don't get along with someone. Less messy than killing them.”

 

Mary-Margaret looked stricken; genuinely guilty. Criticizing her was like kicking a puppy. But she was a grown woman, not a cherub. She'd killed. If she hadn't, Emma wouldn't be apprenticed to her arch-nemesis.

 

“I made a deal with her,” Emma continued. “She won't retaliate.”

 

David was the first to ask “What kind of deal?”, but he was chorused around the island.

 

Emma held up her hands. “She just wants Henry to know she's changed. That's all.”

 

She'd practiced the lie on the way over. If any of them knew the truth, they'd try to get her out of it, probably even go to Rumpelstiltskin. They'd hurt Regina and she'd hurt them back and on it'd go. Someone had to pay the piper instead of wiggling out of it. Besides, if Henry thought the best of Regina, gave her a goddamn hug maybe, it was just possible she'd ease off. A child's love was a hard thing not to live up to. Emma knew that better than most.

 

“I don't trust her,” Mary-Margaret said. Hard-voiced.

 

Emma just stared at her. “ _You_ don't have to. I do. And that's what I'm doing. The last time we didn't give her a chance, she was innocent and we ended up here.” It was a lie. The last time, Regina had taken them up on it, and now her mother was dead.

 

“If Emma's sure...” Ruby began, trailed off.

 

“So Regina's good now?” That came from the head of the stairs. Henry was poking his little head through the bars of the railing.

 

Emma nodded. “She's always been good. She just needs help seeing it sometimes.”

 

She hoped like hell she was telling the truth.

 

*

 

Emma dreamt of what'd happened after she'd been teleported away. Cora preparing to kill Gold. Regina putting her heart back in, told it was medicine when it proved to be poison. A reconciliation—and Emma remembered how that felt, learning Mary-Margaret was her mother, a world of possibilities opening, age-old hopes and dreams all becoming true. Regina had had that, for a moment, then it'd been snatched away. The threat of the same had sent Mary-Margaret diving in a portal after Emma. But where Cora went, Regina couldn't follow.

 

Mary-Margaret had said she'd found the Evil Queen sobbing. Emma couldn't picture that. It bothered her some.

 

She woke up with an abstract feeling of motion, like she'd fallen out of bed without hitting the floor. More than that, her internal thermometer felt off. She checked to see if she'd kicked her bedsheets off, but they weren't there.

 

She wasn't in her bed.

 

She wasn't in any bed. She was lying on a layer of newspaper, underneath which was steel wire. Just like there was below her, and on all sides.

 

Emma panicked for a moment, then realized it must be Regina. She panicked more.

 

“Good morning, my apprentice,” Regina said brightly as she entered the room, face and voice flush with self-satisfaction—victory. In addition to all her other sins, Regina was a morning person. “I trust you slept well?”

 

“Yeah, I did it in a bed. Have you tried those? They work wonders.”

 

“Graham and I did experiment with one, but I'm afraid neither of us got much sleep.” Regina got closer, bringing with her the scent of fresh-brewed coffee. “Today's lesson is on warding, and if you learn it well, you won't wake up in a dog cage again—at least, not of my doing. Please. Eat.”

 

She set down a tray of toast, runny eggs, and coffee mug. Emma could imagine her taking something similar up to Henry's room on special occasions. Emma had to reach through the bars to eat it, but she did. Refusing just would've amused Regina more. Taking the path of least resistance wouldn't offend Regina, but it wouldn't please her that much either.

 

When she was done, Regina took the tray back. She left. Emma heard the tap run, knew she would wash them and load them in the dishwasher before this went any further. The neat freak, the control freak. What a joke—Regina was as much a slave as Emma was.

 

Regina came back finally, five minutes that felt like an hour. She opened the door and left the light on in the hallway, so Emma could see a little of her surroundings. She was in Regina's garage.

 

Regina sat down on the stairs that led a little ways down from the door to the concrete floor. She folded her hands in her lap. Emma wasn't used to her saying nothing. Regina always needed to have the last word, always needed to cut with what she said, but now that she'd finally won, she could glorify in Emma not having anything to say to her.

 

“When do I get out of the cage?” Emma asked. It spurted out like a bubble popping.

 

“When you've learned your lesson,” Regina said, smiling at the double meaning. “Have you guessed how to ward yourself?”

 

“No, Mistress. Why don't you tell me?” Emma said it as respectfully as she could, which was still pretty damn sarcastic.

 

“It's a state of mind,” Regina said. The slight emphasis she put on _mind_ made it clear she considered that insulting enough to Emma. “You see, the first thing you have to learn about magic is mental control. It's no good being able to throw a fireball if you put one through the TV set when a commercial you don't like comes on. This extends to defense. It's no good either, being able to throw a fireball on your enemy if he can alter your mind to make you believe he's your friend.”

 

“So that's why you don't have friends,” Emma said smartly.

 

Regina smiled at her. It slowly grew still, glossy, and Emma felt her mind... _twitch_. There were feelings of deja vu, eureka, even nausea. It was like her memory was regurgitating, forcing a piece of her past back up into her mind. She tried to keep her eyes open, keep herself centered in the present, but she blinked and as if her eyes were taped shut, she was _pregnant, her belly a separate piece of her glued on, weighing her down, anchoring her because it said she wasn't a prisoner, she was a person, a mother, something just a little unquantifiable. She had life inside her, that wasn't something that fit into the convict box. In solitary now, a prison inside a prison, she'd hated it before, the punishment, now it kept her safe. And she wasn't alone. She had the baby. Not forever, she couldn't even name him, but for now he was a gift. She'd lose him soon enough, but just for a second, there was a taste of what it'd be like to be a mother, a wife, have a home._

 

Then Emma could breathe again. It'd all happened in the blink of an eye, in the moment of exhale, and now she was back again. "What was that? What'd you do to me!?"

 

Regina, propping her head up with a hand on her chin, ran a finger along her cheek. "I shared one of your memories. With a little more effort, I could erase one. Implant something new. Back in the Enchanted Forest, almost everyone had a charm or a spell cast on them to prevent such a thing. It's very easy to defend against. A child could do it."

 

Again, Emma felt the start of a searing headache, a sensation like she was falling but _wasn't_ , then she was _holding her baby, thirteen hours of labor and soon he'd be gone, but before that they let her hold him and he was so small but so pure and he's hers and she doesn't want to give him up, doesn't ever_ Emma gasped in breath. "How do I defend against it?" came out, all in a rush.

 

"Hatred. Pure rage. Think back to a time in your life when someone hurt you… when you would've given anything to get back at them. Here, I'll help."

 

Emma was just starting to shake her head when a firework went off between her eyes. She felt _handcuffs closing around her wrists, she was done, arrested, they were taking her in, how did they find her, Neal told them, no, he wouldn't, but he had, why, why why why why?_

"I don't hate Neal…" Emma said with an effort. "He was just doing… what he had to."

 

"Oh who isn't?" Regina insisted. "The fact remains that the father of your child sent you to prison on the word of a man made of wood. He could've stood by you, but he didn't. He was bored of you. Looking for an excuse to get rid of you before you got big and fat and saddled him with an infant."

 

"That's not true! He didn't even know—"

 

"Then August didn't tell him? Or did he not ask?" Regina formed her hand into a fist and rested her chin on it. "Old hatreds die hard, Emma. Just use that moment. That drive. It got you out of prison. It set you up with a certain lifestyle. It can help you now…"

 

Emma was going to protest now, but she felt the fuse burning down behind her ears. She summoned up that day, that moment, that feeling… and weeks after that, weeks of doubting Neal and pleading with his memory and finally, raging at him. Wanting him in prison, him in chains, him in a coffin being buried alive because that's what he'd done to her, trapped her with a baby and a felony and a body out of her control. By the end of the year she'd let it go, decided she was better off not ever seeing him again, but for the better part of a year her hatred of him had kept her going far more than any maternal feelings for Henry. She'd come to loathe every moment she'd spent with him…

 

Then Emma felt a pressure in her sinuses, like the beginning of a headache, and saw Regina focusing. She was trying to get in. And she couldn't. Emma was blocking her.

 

A flush of pride went through the woman. She was doing it! First try and she had it!

 

"Very good, Ms. Swan." Regina leaned back, satisfied, smiling. Emma felt herself actually blush a little. "Come. You deserve a reward."

 

A quick swish of her finger and the cage was unlocked. Emma scampered out of it and saw Regina was leaving. She followed her. Away from the garage, into the living room, connected to the kitchen by a closed door. Regina opened it to disappear inside. "Have a seat. I'll just be a moment."

 

Emma sat down, stretching and massaging her limbs. She didn't know how long she'd been cooped up in that cage, but it was long enough to put some kinks in her. She worked them out. The cracks seemed explosively loud in the quiet house. It was always quiet, but without Henry—without any TVs playing, any video games, any music—it was like a tomb.

 

Regina switched back through the kitchen door unexpectedly fast, stampeding toward Emma, who shrunk back in her seat. "Excellent, you found the massage chair. Good, good, get comfortable. Here. Try to relax." She picked up a remote control, one of many that was arranged on the coffee table like a game of dominos, and pressed a few buttons. Instantly, Emma felt warm pressure on her back. Servos were whirring into motion, vibrating and circling around her spine. It felt… nice, actually.

 

"I'll be back in a moment with the tea," Regina said, setting the remote down.

 

Emma coughed. "Why are you being nice to me?"

 

Regina looked at her uncomprehendingly. "Hmm?"

 

"The massage… _tea_ … that's nice, for you. For normal people, even."

 

Regina blinked. "Why should I be cruel? You're mine now. Of course I want you well taken care of."

 

That came as cold comfort.

 

Regina left and returned in a few minutes with the tea. It was hot but not unpleasantly so, and had enough flavors that Emma couldn't describe it. It was good, though, whatever Regina had put in it. Probably some kind of… laxative aphrodisiac… thing.

 

No, Regina sat across from her, sipping from her own cup of tea. She even had a saucer under it. Apparently she was from the Enchanted Forest by way of Britain. "Now then, I want you to try."

 

"Try what?"

 

"Entering my mind. I'll lower my defenses just enough. I want you to test me."

 

"Uh-huh." Emma set her tea down. "No offense, but your brain is not high on my list of vacation spots."

 

"I wasn't asking, Emma. I was telling. As I said, I see no reason not to take good care of you… _provided_ you don't give me a reason."

 

"Okay, fine," Emma growled. "What do I do, exactly?"

 

"You'll be happy to hear how simple it is. Emma, have you ever read a room? Looked at someone and felt that they were feeling sad, or angry, or happy, or upset?"

 

"Yes, Regina, I am familiar with human emotions. Want a refresher course?"

 

Regina pleasantly ignored the jibe. That was the worst burn of all. Regina didn't even have to insult her; she owned her. "What I want you to do is go further. Press yourself into the mind. Follow the trail of emotion deeper and deeper. Feelings are weakness; exploit them. Find the root cause of the surface thoughts." Regina closed her eyes. "And I am now officially waiting."

 

Emma tried. Looked at Regina, the slight curve of her lips—she was thinking happy thoughts. Or how to flambé someone. Either way… Emma concentrated, tried to become one with the vibe Regina was giving off. It helped to pretend she was high. And slowly, she felt herself falling into Regina. Deeper and deeper, almost like she was being sucked. She wasn't herself anymore, she was— _looking at Henry, her Henry, so sweet, so precious, hers and hers alone, he would love her best because she was his mother and who didn't love their mother, and lately he'd been crawling, so eager to explore this world she'd created for him, yes, for him, she'd thought it was just for her but no, all along it'd been for_ them _their own little paradise just the two of them if she couldn't be with her father and she couldn't be with her mother and she couldn't be with her Daniel she could be with him, her last resort, and he wasn't crawling anymore, no, he was on his hands and toes, don't hurt yourself henry, careful, careful, what're you doing, oh, oh, you want to walk like mommy does, okay, you can do it, I'm right here, I can catch you, I'm your mother I won't let you fall, walk to me, walk to me, stand up, good, good, you're balanced, now just take that first step and I'll—_

"See what I did there?" Regina asked sweetly. Emma was back in her own body—her clothes rasping against her, nowhere near as soft as Regina's were, her body smarting from fights that Regina hadn't been in, aches and pains and sweat and smells. And she'd missed Henry's first steps, for the second time now. She hadn't even wanted to see any clichéd crap like that until Regina had literally dangled it in front of her nose, just to yank it back.

 

"I shut you out," Regina said. "I raised my defenses. Anyone can defend themselves, as you well know. But being able to penetrate such defenses is a useful skill."

 

"What the hell are you playing at, Regina?"

 

"I don't like your tone." Regina's smile widened. "I'll abide you calling me Regina, since our relationship is so very close—mistress and pupil—but… Emma… if I sense a lack of respect…"

 

"I'm sorry," Emma said quickly, not so much out of fear as wanting to avoid confrontation. She wanted to try again. She wanted… just a taste of being Henry's mother, the real mother neither of them had been. Raising him and loving him like a mother should. "Let me try again." Regina made a prompting gesture; Emma added "Please, mistress."

 

"Very well. One more try. Remember, Emma—you have to look at things from my perspective. Feel my pain. I know that's hard for your family, but perhaps if you try very hard…" Regina trailed off. Eyes shut.

 

Emma focused again. Pushed in on Regina like she was a camera zooming in. She was smiling again, taunting Emma, teasing her with a reward. Emma didn't care. She'd have it or die trying. She'd show Regina. Just like she'd shown everyone else.

 

Like she was resting her hand on a Jell-O mold and then applying pressure—how the fuck did fantasy writers come up with cool metaphors for this shit?—Emma sunk into Regina. One moment she was sitting down, the massage chair lulling her sore muscles into relief, the next she was _up in the middle of the night, Henry'd been having nightmares, what was it, what was keeping him up, she'd destroy it, she'd burn it, if anyone was even looking at him the wrong way she would flay them. But no, Henry was calm now, he just needed to be rocked a little. He just needed to be held, and kissed, and sung to. She could do that. The Evil Queen could do all those things. Not so evil after all. Snow White was wrong about her. They were all wrong about her, and though they'd never see it, now they knew. Deep in their hearts was the truth, that they were wrong and she was right and henry, he was her truth, her redemption, her promise. Look how merciful she could be. Every dirty diaper, every colicky moment, every cleaning. He just had to love her and she took care of him, the best. A queen. A mother. And now his lips were moving, more of his nonsense gibberish, only this was different, this was new, purposeful, he was trying to say something. M-M-M-M it started with an M. Could it be? Did he know?_

_Say momma, say mommy, say mother, say mom, I am your mother and I've been taking such good care of you, you are my son and I will always take care of you, we will take care of each other and they will never separate us, I saw to it, I made it so there will be no more sacrifices, no more loss, it will be you and me together, you are henry and I am mother, say it, please, say momma, that's it, I see you forming the word in your mind, on your lips, now your mouth is open, say it, I know you can, please, I need to be your mother, please, please, say—_

Emma was forced into her body, practically thrown back in her seat, just as Henry opened his mouth. Regina smiled at her, openly mocking now. Glorifying in how, no matter what Emma did and no matter who Henry was now, she would always be his mother and those moments would always be hers.

 

"Nice try," Regina said, but all her prior amicability had evaporated. She was cold as ice. "At this rate, perhaps in a few years, you can bend a spoon."

  
"You need a spoon bent?" Emma retorted, on autopilot. She was still back in that moment, trying to hear Henry's first word, straining for the first little syllable of it.

 

Regina was bored of the subtext… the foreplay. "You may be his mother now, but I was his mother first. If nothing else, I've robbed you of everything that makes a mother truly a mother. You stole my child, but I still have his childhood."

 

Emma closed her eyes and _thrust_ herself at Regina, thinking of Neal, thinking of prison, thinking of Regina and all the dominos her fucked-up family life had dropped. Anger made her powerful, and who cared how ominous that sounded; this wasn't Star Wars. If it gave her a leg up on this bitch, she'd take it.

 

"Oh, how cute," Regina started to say, but she broke off mid-sentence and Emma knew she had her. She was in her mind, shooting right through her last thoughts— _I still have his childhood_ —and into Regina's body, once more, but not as she'd felt it. She hadn't even noticed, but the contrast was incredibly ominous. She wasn't tensed, wasn't observant, wasn't half-expecting an attack with every heartbeat. In fact, she was daydreaming. What kind of daydream would the Evil Queen remember?

 

"No!" Regina muttered, teeth gritted, and almost pushed Emma out. Emma was relentless. _I hate her, I hate her._ She still had the excuse of the lesson, she could get in at least one good shot and Regina wouldn't be able to do a damn thing—

 

 _A girl, I'd love a little girl, but I don't want her to look like me because then she'd look like mother, I want her to look like Daniel, I want her to have his chin and his eyes, I want her to have skin white as snow and hair black as ebony and lips red as blood. And we will name her ava and won't mother hate that, won't she just_ die

_What are you doing? Mother demanded, I was just daydreaming, daydream about your lessons you can spin straw into gold I could spin straw into gold at your age you just have to be strong why can't you be strong oh you're weak like your father you have to hate don't you hate them all those people who have so much and we have so little because they are royals and we are less even though we are royals we are still lesser you see how they mock us how they deny us even now now that we are like them we will never be like them we must make them like us they must be the peasants someday you will be queen and they will bow before you like the peasants they are regina your name is queen you are queen you just have to hate and you'll have it all keep listening to me stop looking out the window you must listen to me I am your mother and there is no room foryoutodaydreamyoumustmindmeiamyourmotheryouwillbequeenlearnmagiclearnhateyouwillbepowerfulthemostpowerfulofallyouaremyrevengeidon'tloveyouhowcouldanyoneloveaweaponthatisn'tsharp_

This time Emma did fall back, a wave of magic _shoving_ her deeper into her seat, the servos breaking, malfunctioning behind her. Regina was breathing hard with the same impressionistic stream of abuse that Emma had experienced washing over her. The hand she had used to cast the spell hung in the air, palm out, fingers splayed, as if she were still warding off the memories Emma had drawn up.

 

"Very good," Regina muttered, and Emma was sure she had no idea what she was saying. "My apprentice…"

 

"Did she… did she say all those things?"

 

Regina's eyes, glazed over, became a little clearer. "Most of them… it all started to blur together after a while. I never really had the knack for magic until after Daniel died. I didn't hate anyone until that… moment." She lowered her hand. "If you ever do that again, I'll peel the flesh from your bones."

 

"I won't," Emma promised, and it had nothing to do with the threat of punishment.

 

"Good. That's enough for today. Go home. I need to think of your lesson for tomorrow."

 

Emma rose and realized her legs were shaking. Normally she wouldn't try to walk on them—she'd suspect she had some kind of broken bone—but she'd sure as hell walk away from this.

 

She only paused once. In the door. "You're a much better teacher than her," Emma said weakly.

 

Regina nodded to herself. "I was a much better student, as well."


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't that Emma wanted to know the inner workings of anyone's mind. She was mostly glad not to know what people were thinking, especially about her. It was just that she wanted to know if Regina really had taught her how to read minds, or if it was just another game?

 

Most people she tried it on just gave her funny looks. As Regina had said, it'd been downright easy for them to get charmed against that kind of spell. In fact, the only person in town who wouldn't have lingering protection from the Enchanted Forest would be Henry. And while she had a good idea already what the inner life of an adolescent boy in a town full of hot chicks (or dudes, if that was the way his cookie crumbled) would look like, she just really needed to try her superpower out.

 

She sat down at the breakfast nook with him, where he was alternating between a waffle and something electronic that beeped far more than seemed necessary. She stared at him for a moment, then she was _scared, scared, so scared, nightmare, run, downstairs, across the hall, mom's room, mommy, mommy, what is it sweetheart, I had a bad dream can I sleep in your bed, of course honey, climb up, it's alright, no one's going to hurt you, look, i've got my arms around you, even when we're sleeping i'll be protecting you, my little man, my sweet little boy._

 

Emma had to force herself out of the memory, it was so warm and glowing. As much as she tried to summon up some revulsion with being skin to skin with Regina, she couldn't forget how comforted Henry had felt. He'd been just so _safe_. Emma had never felt that, not so strongly. She wondered if Henry felt that protected with her. She wondered if _she_ would ever feel that way without it flowing through Henry.

 

And the worst part, the part she really couldn't shake was how _sincere_ Regina had been. Maybe it was just from being filtered through Henry's childish perception, but she hadn't seemed to be manipulating Henry at all. She really had loved him. Emma had known that in her head, been told how Regina had tried to change in her absence, but actually seeing it...

 

Hell. What if Regina were sincere about teaching Emma magic instead of just screwing with her? It would fit with Regina's love of ulterior motives: a magical Emma was a better guardian for Henry. But maybe she really did want Emma on her side. Maybe she wanted a friend.

 

Then Emma noticed Mary-Margaret looking at her looking at Henry. Her mother had a vague hurt that started in her eyes and ended at the corners of her mouth. She looked like a dog that'd been kicked and was expecting more of the same. It irritated Emma more than she would've thought. As if it were her ass on the line.

 

“What is it?” Emma asked, not as softly as she'd have hoped.

 

“You have a package,” Mary-Margaret said, sinking deeper into her wounded warrior act. “It's from Regina.”

 

Emma went to the door. A plain brown box was outside, still on the welcome mat. Mary-Margaret must not've wanted to touch it. Emma shrugged and opened it.

 

“Emma!” Mary-Margaret cried, as if Emma were mistaking prescription meds for candy. “It's from _Regina_! It must be part of her revenge!”

 

Emma reached into the box and pulled out a length of resplendent purple fabric. It was the bodice of a dress that looked like Beyonce could've worn it to prom. Emma held it up to her chest.

 

"Revenge looks good on you," Henry said.

 

Emma wondered if today was the day he discovered sarcasm.

 

Underneath the dress was a black cell-phone. It rang harshly as soon as she laid eyes on it. Emma answered, already imagining what she'd change Regina's ringtone to. "Yello?"

 

Regina paused. Emma could only imagine the shudder of resentment, but it was a good mental image. "This is my private line to you. Whenever it rings, you answer, no matter what you're doing. Failure to pick up is a punishable offense."

 

She was so serious about it that Emma just had to reply "Yes, my dark mistress" in her gimpiest voice. No one else thought it was funny.

 

"You have the dress?" Regina asked humorlessly.

 

"Yeah."

 

"Put it on. You'll need it where we're going."

 

"The set of a James Bond movie?"

 

"The first birthday part of Cinderella and her foot fetishist's son. I assume you're received an invitation."

 

"I assume you haven't?"

 

"That's why yours will say Plus One. Change and await me at the curb."

  
Before Emma could think up even the most obvious movie reference, Regina hung up.

 

The dress fit irritatingly well and looked even more irritatingly good. Emma could tell Mary-Margaret was fighting the urge to applaud when she came out in it and she herself found it hard to keep from twirling. She walked down to the street feeling stupidly royal—stupid since she already was a princess, even in boots and a leather jacket.

 

Regina pulled up to the curb in her Town Car, looking every inch the queen in a masculinely dark business suit, a red power tie completing the ensemble with everything but 'phallic symbol' written on it.

 

"I hope you're not expecting me to get the door for you," Regina said, and Emma got in.

 

"So why are we going to a kid's birthday party? Are you going to hit on the clown? Curse the tyke to prick his finger or step on a Lego or some damn thing?"

 

"That was Maleficent," Regina reminded her primly. "She was crazy."

 

"Whoa. What _does_ someone have to do to merit a straitjacket in your world?"

 

"She never _lost_ anyone," Regina replied, and that was the conversation.

 

It looked like a fun party when they got there. Lots of balloons. Since the Curse had broken, Ashley and Thomas had moved into the huge manor once occupied by King George. Emma didn't know why Regina had given him such a boon—maybe it was just a screw-you to Charming.

 

Now, instead of a looming old mansion, the place had been aired out and repainted. There was so much life inside that it seemed to spill out onto the lawn, where the party was being held. Emma didn't know how it could be less Regina's scene. Everyone was wearing summer clothes, for God's sake.

 

Regina gave her keys to the valet, with a look promising abject misery if he scratched it, then took Emma to the greeter. In imitation of the couples in line ahead of them, she linked her arm with Emma's. Emma looked at everything but her arm.

 

"This seems like a lovely gathering," Regina commented pleasantly. "I can't believe you weren't planning to attend."

 

"I sent a card," Emma said defensively.

 

They came to the greeter. After a moment of clear panic, he smiled and took Emma's invitation. "Emma Swan and… guest," he announced with a gulp.

 

The crowd parted to let them in, though Emma didn't know which of them it was for. She could already hear the questions starting up, the rumors answering them. Emma couldn't help it. Their eyes on her were heat and she started to sweat.

 

"Not suited for a life in the public eye, my sweet?"

  
Emma fixed Regina with a hard stare. "You shouldn't have done this. Once I tell the truth, they'll see you as even more of a monster."

 

"Go then." Regina smiled encouragingly. "Tell them."

 

"Emma, why did you bring her here?" Ashley interrupted, dragging Thomas along as back-up. "No offense, Regina."

 

"None taken, Teen Mom 3."

 

Emma cut in before Regina could make things any worse for herself. "Yes, I did bring her here, but it's not what you think. I made a deal with her so no one else would get hurt. Now she's my…" The right word caught in her throat. Emma just couldn't think of it. She tried again. "I'm her…" It was on the tip of her tongue, but would go no further.

 

Regina reached over to pet Emma's arm. "Poor dear, she's tongue-tied. And no wonder, with all that tongue's been up to. I'll get you some punch."

 

Regina left Emma alone with Ashley. Emma didn't like the way Ashley looked at her. She seemed _outraged._ "Well, I certainly didn't expect this from Snow White's daughter."

 

"It's not like that!" Emma protested, holding up her hands.

 

"Then what is it like?"

 

Emma couldn't say, but even if she could, she wouldn't like the tone of Ashley's voice. She dropped her hands to her sides. "Even if it was, how's that your business? Unless your brat's my child bride and nobody told me, how do you even get a say? Besides, it's not like she's Rumpel…"

 

"How is she better than him?"

 

Emma thought about it. "She's cuter."

 

Regina, with her usual timing, returned just in time to overhear that flip remark. "I don't know about cuter, but I'm definitely easier." Sipping a dixie cup of fruit punch, Regina slid into Emma's personal space like a dagger into flesh. She also brought Emma her own cup of punch, which made her one of the more considerate and giving lovers Emma had taken. As did the fact that they weren't really having sex. "I had the most fun idea. Let's have one of those traditional dances like we had in the old kingdom. Emma, don't you think that'd be just wild?"

 

Emma gritted her teeth as Regina's hand hit the small of her back like a branding iron. "I'd rather ride a tandem bicycle with Hitler."

 

"Well, if dancing isn't your speed, I could put on a magic show. Kids love magic shows, don't they?"

 

Ashley coughed once. "I'll tell the band."

 

Regina smiled at her superiority, her intimidation. She offered her hand. "Emma? May I have the first dance?"

 

"Since Hitler isn't available…" Emma took Regina's hand and let herself be led onto the patio—an impromptu dance floor.

 

The band enthusiastically struck up a waltz, the minstrels glad not to be covering Katy Perry songs anymore. Everyone was gaping at Regina and Emma as the erstwhile queen showed her prodigy where to put her hands—placing Emma's left on her upper arm, where surprising muscle resided. Her right hand rested comfortably at Emma's hip. Their free hands clasped. It wasn't unpleasant—Regina's skin was as cool as marble, her grip firm and steady. But Emma felt like a sideshow freak on display, having Regina parade her around in front of everyone.

 

"I know what you're doing and it won't work," she whispered. "No one is seriously going to believe there's anything between us."

 

Regina spun them around as leisurely as the moon came up and went down. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm simply teaching you a lesson in a fun and creative manner. You think that way when you're a mother."

 

As they whispered back and forth, other couples began to join them on the floor. Emma didn't know if they were doing it in solidarity with her or out of fear of Regina.

 

"What lesson would that be?" Emma asked, trying hard to refrain from 'accidentally' kicking Regina in the shin. "The Foxtrot?"

 

"I'm simply motivating you to find out a way around my geas. Once you do, it'll be quite easy for you to cast your own."

 

"And what the hell's a geas?"

 

Regina gave Emma a sudden twirl, nearly tipping her over. She steadied her, her hand now on the back of Emma's upper thigh. It was an odd place to be touched—not quite offensive, but definitely intimate. Emma's flight or fight reflex went into overdrive. She almost felt aroused, her heart was beating so hard.

 

"A geas, when cast properly, will stop someone from revealing a given fact. It's just a handy spell to know in case, for instance, a little brat has to keep a secret that could get someone killed." Regina pulled Emma back to her. Her right hand moved upward, tracing along Emma's skin to just under her arm. There, she tightened her grip. "This really was an inspired choice of dress," Regina said, smugly satisfied with herself. She was dancing like the heated exchange had never happened.

 

"So I have to learn your dumb lesson if I want to tell people I'm not actually fucking you. You're unbelievable, you know that?"

 

"That isn't it at all." In perverse contradiction to the music, Regina bent Emma backward at the waist. She leaned over her vampirically as the other dancers, the entire world seemed to twist with them as its axis. "I just wouldn't want it getting out exactly what I'm teaching you. Imagine all the people who would knock on my door, begging to be the next Harry Potter or Elphaba Thropp."

 

"Stand me up, _now,_ " Emma said dangerously, and Regina obligingly snapped her back up. "It's not going to work," she repeated.

 

"Well, I should hope not. After all, it wouldn't say much for your reputation if people thought you were prostituting yourself to me for your mother's sake. Or, come to think of it, for your mother. What good's a queen who can't protect her darling princess?"

 

Emma darkened even as Regina whirled her around, faster and faster. "And what about you? I know it's Maine, but I think even here, people frown on sex slavery."

 

"You've spent the better part of a year destroying my reputation. Why not live down to it?" Regina pulled Emma close. "You have everyone thinking I'm Satan incarnate. Now let them think what Satan does in the bedroom."

 

"I feel sorry for you," Emma spat in Regina's ear. "Using sex as a weapon. Maybe if you got laid and actually _enjoyed_ it, you wouldn't be public enemy number one."

 

"And maybe if you didn't enjoy it so much, you wouldn't have popped out a kid behind bars."

 

Emma threw her hands down, breaking them out of Regina's grip. "You know what? We're done. Here's your--" she grabbed hold of her shoulder straps and _ripped,_ glad she'd taken her mother's advice and worn a slip underneath, "dress back!"

 

Stepping briskly out of it, she threw it in Regina's face. With a wave of the Queen's hand, the cloth stopped in mid-air and fell to the floor. Regina looked down at it disdainfully.

 

"You can either put that back on or stay in your underwear," Regina said dangerously. "But I'd like another dance."

 

Everyone was staring at her, Emma knew. But she didn't care, now. Let them stare, when it was on her terms, when it was at her standing up to Regina. If Regina wanted to own her, she'd be getting a Rottweiler, not a poodle.

 

"I'm sorry, I thought _your entire life_ had taught you that you don't get what you want."

 

Regina just stared at her. Then she smiled.

 

Regina was always her most dangerous when she smiled. It meant she'd thought up a punishment gruesome enough to make even her warped mind happy. _Fucking bring it,_ Emma thought.

 

"Well, if you're not feeling well, you should probably get home," Regina said, at her sweetest. "But you will make it up to me tomorrow," she continued pointedly.

 

"Can't wait!"

 

***

 

Emma didn't think of how it looked, coming home in just her slip, tattered from the long walk. At least, not until she actually walked through the door and Mary-Margaret saw her.

 

"It's not—" Emma began, before her tongue hit a wall. "Forget it."

 

"There's a—" Mary-Margaret started in turn, but broke off, going to get a coat to throw over Emma as her daughter blithely grabbed a beer from the fridge. Liquid courage. Maybe she should've invested in some before the party.

 

Then Emma saw what her mother had been talking about, resting on the kitchen table.

 

There was another package for her. 


	5. Chapter 5

The birthday party hadn't been the fiasco Regina had hoped for. It was an entirely different kind of fiasco. She hadn't expected Emma to rebel so soon, over a few schoolyard taunts, but oh well. That just meant she'd get to punish Emma ahead of schedule.

 

She'd gone directly to the store after the party, assembling Emma's new ensemble with glee. All she had to do to dispel her embarrassment was imagine how Emma would feel wearing her new outfit.

 

Her night was just looking up when she got home and saw who was waiting there.

 

_Her._

"We need to talk," Mary-Margaret said as Regina got out of the car.

 

"Do we?" Regina asked, leaning on the hood of her car. "Let me guess. You're sorry. You're _so_ sorry. You don't know what came over you!" She had to try hard to prevent her voice from becoming a shriek. The leaden sarcasm, though, came easily. "It was a mistake, an accident. A once-in-a-lifetime act. It's just an astounding coincidence that you happened to get everything you want."

 

There it was—the spark. No matter how Mary-Margaret lorded her purity over her subjects, Regina could always see it in her eyes. The hatred, indignation, _entitlement._ Regina had devoted her life to crushing it, but had only succeeded once. And the Curse was cheating; Mary-Margaret was no more Snow White than she herself was the Mayor. The truth was that she was the Evil Queen and Snow White was the girl who had killed Daniel. That was all they were to each other and all they would ever be.

 

And look, look how it worked. The spark shot up, but then the flame guttered. It flickered. Soon, it would go out. Regina could've laughed. Snow White's great big heart… she put it out there for everyone, but that just meant Regina had her pick of target. And now she'd hit closest to home.

 

No more flaming righteousness. No more grim moroseness in doing her duty. Now Mary-Margaret looked truly sorrowful. The grief she should've shown when she murdered Daniel, all those years ago. "You're right, Regina. I do always get what I want, in the end. Why don't we even things out a little?"

 

A ploy. Pathetic. Regina only kept some of the disdain off her face. "I'm listening."

 

"Break the deal with Emma. Make one with me. You want my heart? Take it."

 

Regina couldn't help it—she sucked in air. How she'd longed to hear those words and the delicious aftertaste of their meaning. Make the pain stop, Regina. Put me out of my misery, Regina. You win, Regina, my queen. Her hand flew to Mary-Margaret's breast, palm pursed over her heartbeat.

 

No. No, not yet. Mary-Margaret wasn't broken just yet.

 

They stayed like that, Regina enjoying the perverse suspense of the moment. The feel of flesh. So warm. So soft. It would part so easily… "You want this."

 

"I killed your mother. Me. Take it out on me, not Emma."

 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Regina ran her fingers over the covering of Mary-Margaret's barely beating heart. When she took it, it'd be racing in fear. "Everyone you love would be so _safe._ They'd condemn me. _Henry_ would condemn me, after what I'd done to his precious grandmother. And you'd be such a good person, throwing yourself to the big bad wolf."

 

"I am a good person!" Mary-Margaret insisted. There was the Snow White she hated so much, the strength, the resilience. Oh, how it sat on Regina's tongue like spoiled meat. Not broken at all. Just making yet another sacrifice to weasel out of. "I did what I had to do, just like I'm doing now!"

 

"Do you know what they call a good person who only does evil things when it's necessary?" Regina sunk her hand into Snow White's chest, slowly going deeper and deeper. She felt Mary-Margaret's rib cage swim past her fingers. "Evil."

 

"Regina—" Mary-Margaret said weakly, feeling her heart being clutched even though Regina had said she was safe. The poor dear was so confused.

 

"I'm not going to kill you. But I am going to take _collateral_. This way, Emma will know that the next time she defies me, our deal will be off—and you'll get your wish. But for now, you can go home and think about how it feels to have your heart ripped from your chest!"

 

And Regina _pulled._ The little muscle came loose like it'd been wanting to go into Regina's hand so long. It popped right out of Mary-Margaret's chest and they watched it glow, Regina in triumph, Mary-Margaret in tears.

 

Only it wasn't so bright as Regina had seen before. It was dimmed, like a cloud passing in front of the sun.

 

Regina turned it over. "Oh. Look at that. See how it's turning nice and dark? Maybe you should've been my apprentice."

 

"And how does your heart look!" Mary-Margaret demanded, her voice becoming shrill. Without her heart, that annoying streak of compassion was already starting to rinse away.

 

Regina just smiled at her. Jiggling her key-fob, she remotely popped the trunk of her car. "I bought a little present for Emma. Be a dear and bring it to her." She tossed the heart up and caught it. "I can't wait to see how she looks in it."

 

***

 

"She cannot be fucking serious."

 

Emma stared down into the box Mary-Margaret had told her was from Regina. She'd known to be worried when she saw it was the size of a suitcase. Inside were, well… there was a mesh top, a skimpy black bra that barely had straps, a purple micro-mini, a red lipstick case, black patent leather boots with three-inch stiletto heels, black mesh stockings, even bits of jewelry. No panties were included—Emma hoped that meant she was supposed to wear her own.

 

"I'm not wearing this. She cannot think I'll wear this!"

 

"You have to," Mary-Margaret said, and Emma looked up at her sharply. Something was wrong. Not just what she's said, but the timbre of her voice. It didn't sound as high and light as her mother usually did. It was deeper, snakier. More like…

 

"You _bitch_ ," Emma snarled.

 

"Temper, temper," Regina said through her latest puppet. "If I'm talking through mommy dearest, then that must mean—" she continued leadingly.

 

Emma muttered the realization. "You have her heart." 

 

"Collateral. Remember, you made this deal in exchange for your mother's life. It only stands to reason that should you choose to break it, well… certain things would be forfeit."

 

"You don't need her heart in a box to kill her," Emma insisted. "Put it back!"

 

"We can discuss that after your punishment. You're my apprentice, Emma. I have the right to discipline you as I see fit. And you _did not complete your lesson._ "

 

Emma closed her eyes. The hell of it was, the witch was right. She'd known what she was getting into when she made the deal. And whatever else Regina was, she was consistent. You hurt her, she hurt you back. But if you managed her, handled her, she was harmless. She'd gone twenty-eight years in Storybrooke without murdering anyone. If Emma could just get her to calm down… to calm her down and stay calm, maybe…

 

She couldn't think about that right now. Right now, she just had to submit to her punishment as best she could and then find a way to get Mary-Margaret's heart back in her chest. Regina had implied it was possible. She just had to make her happy, because making her mad was no longer an option.

 

"What do you want from me?" she asked, finally opening her eyes.

 

Regina smiled through Mary-Margaret's face. "Get dressed. Then go out onto the street. I'll pick you up shortly."

 

"Wait for you dressed like this!" Emma demanded. Then she figured that was Regina's game. Petty, as far as Regina went. Just some humiliation, as if Emma hadn't done the walk of shame enough times to be entirely immune to that. "Yeah, sure. Now do you mind getting out of my mom?"

 

"Certainly. It's so _pink_ in here…"

 

By the time Mary-Margaret was back to herself, Emma had already went to change.

 

***

 

 _Just pretend it's Halloween,_ Emma told herself. She felt ridiculous. She hadn't bothered to shower before throwing on the new clothes, leaving a sheen of sweat on her abundantly exposed skin, with her hair tousled enough to make her look like… well.

 

She had to admit though, the clothes flattered her. Ruby have given her a "looking good, sister." If she were just doing some role-playing with George Clooney, this would've been great. It was the fact that everyone who passed her on the street gave her a _look…_

Back in Boston, she could go home practically with cum in her hair, and the most she'd get would be a knowing glance. Here, people didn't seem that familiar with sex-positivism. She got openly disparaging looks, women coughing, dragging their men away as they stared. It was mortifying.

 

_It's not you, Emma, it's just a Halloween costume. Regina bought you a stupid damn Halloween costume, that's all._

Even the Evil Queen's dresses she'd seen in Henry's book were more modest. She wondered if Regina got the same whispered comments. Probably not. Who would dare talk that way about a queen?

 

After thirty minutes—and she wouldn't be surprised of Regina timed it to arrive just before she contracted pneumonia—a car pulled up. Regina smiled at her. "Need a ride?"

 

"Can we just go?" Emma demanded. "You've made your point."

 

"Not yet. There's still another lesson I want you to pick up."

 

Emma put her hands on canted hips, aware that now she looked like Briscoe and Curtis should be asking her about a murder. "Well, I'm sure you have a _lot_ to teach me about being a hooker…"

 

Regina's lips pressed flat in indignation and what almost looked like amusement. "No, you seem to have the hang of it. But we will be exploring something similar. Sex magic."

 

"You're kidding, right?"

 

"Not at all." Regina reached into her purse and brought out a wrinkled hundred dollar bill. She held it out to Emma. "By the way, here's for Henry's back-to-school clothes. I know he's growing up so fast."

 

As what seemed like the entire town watched, Emma snatched the bill from Regina and tucked it away in her own purse. Regina hadn't provided her with a handbag—which probably meant she considered Emma's whorish enough.

 

Emma walked around the car to get into the passenger seat. Regina grinned as her bare thighs hit the cool leather interior. "Comfy?"

 

"I want Mary-Margaret's heart back by midnight."

 

Regina looked at her sidelong. "That entirely depends on how reasonable you're willing to be—and how satisfied I end up."


	6. Chapter 6

As Regina drove Emma through town, Emma was glad for her seatbelt’s shoulder strap. It, and her crossed arms, were pretty much all that kept Regina from being able to stare at her like her own personal centerfold. As it was, every red light seemed to bring an appraising glance at Emma’s long, bare legs.

 

“How’s Henry doing?” Regina asked at last, and being all ready for a flippant joke, Emma was already snarling with a comeback before she realized the question. She wondered if Regina even cared about dressing her up like Rihanna on a day off, or if it was just meant to put her off-guard for a line of questioning.

 

Emma gathered herself. “Fine. Confused, but… fine. Misses you.”

 

Regina stayed centered as ever, but Emma saw her fingers tighten on the wheel. “Of course.”

 

Emma pressed, not sure if she wanted to hurt Regina or help her. “You know what I told him? I said you agreed to this… truce, just because you wanted to show him you changed.”

 

Regina laughed out loud.

 

“Something funny?” Emma asked.

 

Regina smiled placidly as she spoke, still waters running deep. “Yes, yes—that’s the mother Henry deserves. A saint. A martyr. But you’ll forgive me for being amused by you asking for her, after you went to such an effort to murder her.”

 

“Bullshit!” Emma cried. “I did everything I could to let you in…”

 

“I’m not fighting you on this. We’ll come to see where the boy ends up; and who he truly cares for.”

 

Emma ran her hands over her face, scrubbing at her eyes. Well, so much for that. Henry had always been Regina’s weak spot—it momentarily bothered Emma to think of their relationship like that—but clearly she had some plan to get him back without using his blood relatives as gatekeepers.

 

Or she just didn’t care about him anymore. That scared Emma even worse.

 

She settled into her seat, just letting Regina drive her through town until the houses dwindled to a few a mile, then none at all. They were on a country road surrounded by forest and Emma felt her skirt riding up a few badly needed inches from her shifting around. She pulled it back down, checked to see if Regina was watching. The queen’s eyes were fixed straight ahead.

 

Asphalt turned to gravel, and they rolled up a bumpy road with pine needles scratching at the car’s finish until they came to a wooden cabin. Emma had traced plenty of bail jumpers to cabins in the wood, and this one was about as outdoorsy as Martha Stewart Living; capital-r Rustic, capital-q Quaint, capital-c Charming. There was a stack of firewood by the door so neat that you could throw a mattress on top and go to sleep on it.

 

Regina parked and got out. “Come,” she told Emma, and the blonde got out of the car after her, following her as she walked to the door. Regina stopped before she got there, turning around to flash a brilliant grin at Emma. “ _Good doggy.”_

“Not funny,” Emma said sourly. “Some of my best friends are dogs.”

 

Regina hummed happily to herself as she jingled her keys, a little like a dinner belt, to get to the one that unlocked the front door. Then she swept inside, beckoning Emma after her. Emma went in and shut the door behind her.

 

Inside, everything continued being _Regina._ Spic and span and in such good taste that it was almost devoid of personality. Emma supposed that beat the ironic Evil Queen act that furnished her suburban home. The real Regina was—well, who know? Who cared? Not Emma. She’d given up on ever finding some real, pizza-and-cold-beer human being inside that she could relate to. Hell, her own parents were Aragorn and Legolas. She was never going to have a normal conversation again.

 

“So what’s my punishment?” Emma asked with a huff of annoyance against herself. “Cleaning this place?”

 

“No. Nothing that odious.” Regina loosened the belt on her trenchcoat, tugged it free, then slid off the entire garment to rest on a hall tree. Underneath, she wore a bra, black panties, and garters. Nothing else. “I know how you hate it clean.”

 

A lot of women, Emma didn’t see the attraction. Blake Lively seemed mega-bland. Cara Delevingne—wow, a blonde woman, yup, that’s what they look like. Selena Gomez, probably going to look like a fourteen-year-old until the end of time, and not a hot fourteen-year-old like Leonardo DiCaprio.

 

But Regina was—she was exactly what she knew herself to be, all that smugness in the way she carried herself justified because she did look just that good. Emma wondered if she had even looked that way in the Enchanted Forest, or if the Curse made her look it. In Emma’s perfect world, she’d definitely look something like that.

 

In fact, Regina looked so good that it took Emma a moment to wonder why, exactly, she was in lingerie. Then she lashed out with preemptive anger. “So what’s my punishment, eating your pussy?”

 

Regina chuckled like Emma had just uttered a charming _bon mot_. And sat on the bed. “Absolutely not, Ms. Swan. That would be a reward. As you said, this is punishment. Now, _come here._ ”

 

For a moment, Emma felt stricken. Next to naked, and not at all as confident with her body as Regina was. Powerless, alone—helpless. She still took one step forward, then two. This would keep her safe. This would keep everyone safe, even Regina. And Regina wasn’t a monster—not anymore, at least. She wouldn’t do anything too horrible. Nothing that couldn’t be undone.

 

Emma went to Regina, standing over her on the bed. Normally, she’d have felt quite aggressive, standing next to a scantily-clad woman in bed. Maybe Regina was sending her a message by posing them that way. Reminding ‘the Savior’ that whoever her family was, whoever her _son_ was, _she_ still held the real power.

 

“Lie down.” Regina patted the bed beside her. Then, with sneering enjoyment: “Get nice and _comfy.”_

Holding onto the hem of her insanely short skirt to keep it from moving away from anything it needed to keep covered, Emma arranged herself next to Regina. It was odd being this close to Regina, a woman she’d come to blows with but never embraced. Before, she’d felt the sadness, the torn anger that salved it, coming off of Regina like heat from a pyre. Now all she felt was an allure; the power Regina possessed, part and parcel with her beauty, warping the world so all gravity led to her.

 

Was this the real Regina, powerful and in control once more, or just another mask? Was this ‘therapy,’ Emma letting Regina play her like a piano, doing any good, calming her inferno of rage as Emma had hoped? Or was this just water seeking its own level?

 

Maybe Regina was just one of those people with an angry heart, the woman calculating sins against herself like an accountant, and even grief couldn’t penetrate that inconsolable hate. It just made it burn hotter for a moment and that was all.

 

And why did she care so much about Regina’s motives anyway? She was a pragmatist, a realist. What did it matter _why_ Regina did anything? She gave Emma shit and Emma took it. That was all there was to their ‘relationship’. And whether Regina could be fixed or not made no difference to Emma.

 

“Is the punishment boredom?” Emma asked impudently. “Because that’s what I’m getting. Lotta boredom.”

 

Regina gave her one of the softer smiles, like Emma was a small child whose foolishness amused her. “Your punishment, Ms. Swan, is that you must watch me for ten minutes. No looking away. No closing your eyes.”

 

Emma smirked in response. “Not to bolster that sky-high self-esteem of yours or anything, but not the hardest thing in the world to do. You want me to juggle at the same time or something?”

 

“No, Emma. Just look.” And suddenly she was in motion, rising up over Emma like she meant to straddle her, and Emma was paralyzed—but Regina was only reaching across Emma to open the nightstand. “Look… but don’t touch.”

 

Emma forced her mouth open. “Touching you, your highness, is the last thing I’d want to do.”

 

“Oh _really_?”

 

“People who do tend to wind up dead.”

 

Regina took the blow without flinching, and that made Emma feel worse than if it had landed. “Worth it.” Emma wondered how many emotional hits like that Regina had taken in her life, to be able to shrug it off now.

 

And Regina withdrew back to her side of the bed, showing off what she’d taken from the nightstand. It was made by Hitachi. “How do you like my magic wand?”

 

With an unnecessarily sharp intake of breath, Emma realized what the game was. Regina _actually thought_ she’d be tempted by—no. No, Regina really was crazy, thinking she could seduce absolutely anyone. Thinking Emma could ever entertain a notion like that after all the shit Mills had put her through.

 

“Lady, I’ve ridden subways, I know what people masturbating look like.”

 

“Oh, I’m _sure_ you do.” Regina petted the vibrator in her hands like it was a small pet, almost cooing over it. “Have you ever really thought about it, though? The concept of self-pleasure? Making love to yourself?” She sunk the vibrator between her bare thighs, but only to draw it up over her crotch and belly. Emma’s eyes unwittingly followed it as it surmounted her cleavage. “Anyone can just _lie there_ and take a man’s passion. I’m sure that’s how you came into existence, Ms. Swan. But only a real woman can know her own pleasures. Take this toy, for instance.” Regina finally brought it to her mouth, like a microphone, and Emma had to admit, the image of Regina with those full lips so close to a phallic symbol was… obscene. She definitely wouldn’t let Henry see it. “I imagine myself as this little instrument, and my body as that of a stranger’s. One who I’ve studied intimately, though. I’ve seen others make love to her, seen her enjoy herself, but what is it she truly fancies? What is it that makes her sweat and scream? What is it this little toy can do, to replace a willing man… or woman? Nine minutes to go, Emma.”

 

Emma let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Counting the seconds, majesty.”

 

“I’m sure you are. My, this certainly is a masculine little toy, wouldn’t you say? Just between us girls, I’ve always found the _idea_ of a blowjob more intriguing than the execution. The seat of a man’s power is his cock—“ Regina ran the vibrator over her lips. “Everyone knows that, even the men. But our power isn’t in our mouths. We can satisfy them without ever letting them in. Hold all their pleasure in our tiny… little… mouths…” Emma watched as the vibrator disappeared between Regina’s ruby lips, the queen eying her as she took it deeper… deeper… then, with a moan, slurping her way off it. “But I’ve never found much to the concept besides _sucking._ Certainly, it brings the man pleasure, but pleasing a man is no great feat. That’s why we must focus on pleasing ourselves. Selfish, greedy pleasure. Won’t you do that for me, my little lover?” Regina turned away from Emma at the last moment, retrospectively directing her words at the gleaming wet vibrator.

 

Emma forced herself to keep breathing. How long was it now? Eight minutes? Eight and a half? “And to think, Regina, all the times I’ve wished for you to go fuck yourself.”

 

“Such filthy language. I won’t be surprised if Henry picks up on it. Let’s hope that’s the worst of your influence on him.” Regina smiled sweetly at Emma. It had a different flavor, now that all the cards were on the table, their relationship formalized, the match set. It now seemed sincere. “Do you know how to pleasure yourself, Emma? The language of pleasure? Not the crude remarks I’m sure you’ve heard a million times, with their gutter language and anatomical suggestions, but…” Regina tilted her head towards Emma’s. “Sweet nothings. Lovely poetry. The tongue responding in kind to the beauty the eye is offered. Tell me, Emma, has anyone ever called you beautiful?”

 

“I…” That took Emma way the hell back. Too far back. It really… actually… _seemed like Regina was hitting on her._ Complimenting her, even. What the fuck?

 

Regina turned on the vibrator, its low buzz like white noise, the kind of thing that could almost lull you to sleep. Emma thought she could see its throbbing pulse moving up Regina’s arm.

 

Regina brought it down to her legs—those long, supple things that Emma had been trying to avoid looking at. Emma decided she wouldn’t now. She focused her eyes on Regina’s face. Regina had told her to look at her, but she hadn’t said where to look, and Emma wouldn’t be drawn into her game anymore than necessary.

 

“At first, the strangeness,” Regina said breathily, blissfully. Emma’s eyes darted down and saw the vibrator was along her slightly parted thighs, not even between her legs. She forced her gaze back up to Regina’s face, which would’ve seemed safe except for the expression there. Regina’s enjoyment looked fucking _venomous_ on her. One of those venoms people took to get high, maybe.

 

“Then you get accustomed to it…” Emma didn’t look, but the hum of the vibrator changed tenor, as if suddenly its sound was being shielded by Regina’s soft flesh. “You must savor the strangeness, almost the _wrongness_ of it. Your own body a stranger’s. You’re not meant to be touching it this way, taking this pleasure for yourself instead of leaving it to a man. But it feels good. Not just the touch, but knowing that you yourself are responsible for that leaden feeling _leaving._ The knots in your sore muscles unwinding, the tension dissipating like fog in the morning sun. Oh. Oh, it’s nice isn’t it? It can get better. We just have to be brave. Open up…” Emma heard the bed creak, the sheets crinkle as—that had to be Regina opening her legs, wasn’t it? She didn’t dare look. “And let it in.

 

Looking at Regina wasn’t a problem now. Looking away was. Her face—her face was _victorious._ Whatever she was doing in front of Emma, it felt as good as she’d hoped. Maybe better.

 

“I love the way it feels, Emma. I really do.”

 

“Six minutes,” Emma replied, her mouth dry.

 

“Do you make love to yourself, Emma? Not just the mechanical process of clit and cunt. Listening to your body and giving it what it wants. To be touched. To be loved. Mmm…” Regina sighed blissfully, the vibrator’s sound going soft. Emma imagined it inside her now—making her eyes go dewy and her mouth slacken. Regina’s body gently heaved, like it was the sea and the vibrator was the east wind, blowing over her skin.

 

Emma kept watching. She saw Regina’s face flushed with exertion, a thin film of moisture that clung to her neck and clothed her breasts. “You ever try ice cubes?” she quipped. “Those work for me.”

 

Through the mattress, Emma could feel Regina’s hips thrashing, her body flailing. “Tell me more about what works for you, Emma, dear. Is it better when it seems naughty? I’m sure a little touching, a little rubbing, didn’t seem so bad compared to the usual trouble you got yourself into. But I think it does now; now that you’ve come to Storybrooke. Now I think it’s naughty. In the back of your mind, when you touch yourself—and you _do_ touch yourself, Emma—you hear a voice admonishing you. ‘This isn’t right, Emma, you shouldn’t do this, this is so wrong’. Whose is it, dear? Mary-Margaret’s? David’s? It must feel good, ignoring them…”

 

Emma had left her hands on her skirt; now they bunched the scanty fabric as she made fists. Regina was full of shit… but she had masturbated once in the shower, her newfound parents outside, surely with a lecture on medieval views of women’s sexuality ready if they caught her—and it’d felt good, when she came. Way better than it had back in Boston.

 

Then, falling down the rabbithole, she pictured how Regina must appear. The obscene spread of her thighs, panties unashamedly pulled away from her pink cunt, her hand eagerly thrusting that thing inside herself…

 

“I’m coming!”

 

Emma came back to reality. Regina was before her and Emma could see the waves of pleasure washing over her, moving her mouth with the tide in a series of hot gasps and silent moans. The entire bed shook, either with Regina’s body or Regina’s magic, but Emma was oblivious to everything but the pleasure Regina took. She could see it written all over her—in her shallow breathing, her heaving breasts, her clenching belly, those sweaty thighs that Emma seemed to have imagined a hundred times, and between them—

 

Emma heard her skirt rip. She’d been holding the fabric a little too tight.

 

Regina reached over Emma again, the scent of her swirling overwhelmingly in Emma’s nostrils, to replace the vibrator on the nightstand. Emma felt both satiated and unsatisfied—she was glowing like Regina’d been masturbating her instead of herself. And she also felt shame. Everything else had just been a game—the stripping, the dancing—but this felt real. She truly was—aroused. And Regina had done that to her. What would Mary-Margaret say if she could see her now, or David if he heard about what she’d done?

 

And even more shamefully, some rebellious nerve made that thought excite her.

 

“Five minutes,” Emma said, wondering if she was just supposed to watch Regina lull about being satisfied now. It wasn’t too unpleasant a thought…

 

Still on top of her, Regina smiled at Emma like it carried a secret, two best friends who’d done something wrong together. Wrong but exciting. “And then, once we’ve had our fun—we can let the man touch us.”

 

Opening the nightstand again, Regina took out a small bell. She returned to her side of the bed and gave it a ring.

 

The lock clicked, the door creaked open. Emma kept her eyes on Regina. She wouldn’t be tricked. Regina gave her a friendly smile, looked away, and said quite sweetly “Hello Graham.”


	7. Chapter 7

For five minutes Emma watched as Regina and Graham fucked. Before, it hadn’t been pornographic. Seeing Regina so close had been intimate. A private show for Emma. This was obscene. No, not even that. People could be obscene. Not slabs of meat coming together, groaning, grunting, sweating, biology at work far more than personalities or lusts. She couldn’t even call it fucking. It was coupling.

 

They finished and Regina sent him on his way. He didn’t even look at Emma. Regina laid there, asked Emma to fetch her a cigarette from the nightstand, and Emma gave her one. Lit it. There was something wrong about the sight of her—there’d been a sensual aspect to her when she’d masturbated, something Emma hadn’t even admitted was seductive until she’d seen her with Graham, as passionless as someone eating ramen noodles. It was like a painting that’d messed up the perspective, employed the wrong colors, done something wrong they teach you to do right on the first day of art school. It should’ve been sexy, seeing Regina in dishabille, smoking a cigarette, freshly fucked. It just wasn’t.

 

“Sex magic?” Emma asked at last.

 

Regina blew out a pall of smoke. “Yes.”

 

“And what’d that accomplish?”

 

Regina held out her hand. “Here. I’ll show you.”

 

Emma hesitated a moment, but—yes. She wanted to know.

 

She bowed her head, Regina touched her forehead, and she felt—nothing. The disgust and pity she’d felt for Regina retreated like an old memory. It was almost like a good buzz, everything receding away, numbness wrapped around her like a warm blanket. Yet she could see, very clearly. She could think, she could remember, she could plan. It was just that no feelings could penetrate where she was. She thought of giving birth to Henry, giving him up, reuniting with him—it was all the same. Like she was watching a stranger’s home movies. There was nothing in her. She’d been emptied out.

 

Emma pulled away from Regina and the world pressed back in. She welcomed the well of emotions she fell into, the usual morass of feelings she had to put aside to function. It was better than being someone else. Or no one at all.

 

“What was that?” Emma asked. “It felt like I was walking on the bottom of the ocean.”

 

“Peaceful, no?” Regina replied in kind. “A little spell to keep me from being as pathetic as your mother. She relies on a sort of Pollyanna ignorance to keep going. I myself prefer to simply cut away thoughts that would drag me down.”

 

“It’s an antidepressant?”

 

“I’m not depressed,” Regina corrected curtly. “I am simply weighted down by any number of abominable things you and your clan have done to me. How I deal with them is my business.”

 

“How did you even talk to Henry—“

 

“I didn’t need it when Henry was mine.” Again, curt. Too curt. “Leave me. You’ve been punished enough and you’ve had your lesson. I should sleep.” She smiled. “Sex magic makes it very easy to sleep.”

 

Emma got up from the bed. It wasn’t until she’d left that she remembered Mary-Margaret’s heart. No. She couldn’t deal with that now. Not when Graham was there.

 

She found him in the kitchen, making fresh roast coffee. The look he gave her told her it was for Regina. Still, he gave her a cup to go with the one he’d made himself.

 

“I thought you were dead,” she said, so quietly. Like she was still under Regina’s spell.

 

“Do you want an explanation or an apology?”

 

“Both.”

 

“Of course I’m sorry. But it’s not like I had a choice. Have a choice.”

 

“So explain.”

 

He sat down. He’d dressed in worn jeans, simple flannel, and she would’ve found him attractive if she could stop thinking of what he looked like having sex. If you could call it that.

 

Graham floundered for a minute, trying to put something big into things as small as words. Emma knew the feeling. Saw him give up. “You read the storybook? You know about the Huntsman?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Regina made me her slave. I was given the honor of assisting her butcher in preparing her feasts. She always did have a dark sense of humor. Still, I’d broken a deal with her, and in the Enchanted Forest… she could’ve done much worse. And cows, chickens, I didn’t mind killing them. Any more than I did people. I wasn’t a good man, Emma.”

 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Emma replied.

 

“Thought I did.”

 

He drank. Emma drank. It was good coffee. But it seemed like he’d had a lot of time to learn how to make it.

 

He went on. “One day, I heard that poachers were decimating the wolf packs. Killing them for their pelts, not even their meat, and _massacring them._ I asked Regina to let me put it a stop to it and she told me she would do more than that. She would make it illegal to kill a wolf in her kingdom, if I only… I don’t think Regina would trust a lover she couldn’t control, but she also wouldn’t simply order me to be hers. I felt sorry for her, more than anything else. Such a beautiful woman, but she would never let anyone in without a knife to her throat. When she brought me to Storybrooke, I was actually happy. I didn’t know any better. I thought I was in love with her. I thought she loved me. Then the spell started to break down and I remembered just enough to ruin things.”

 

“Sorry about that,” Emma said sarcastically. “Graham, I _watched you die._ ”

 

“She had my heart. She stopped it. Then she started it again. I woke up here, remembering our bargain. You see, the Curse took the people from the Enchanted Forest. It left the animals alone. The wolves, the deer, they’re all alright. Better, now that they’re not being hunted for sport or caught in traps. Even in Storybrooke, there’s no hunting allowed.”

 

“Regina joined PETA, so you’re her bitch. Great.”

 

“It’s not a bad life here. I’ve never liked people much anyway. I have my dogs, I have the forest…”

 

“You never miss Archie, or Ruby, or Mary-Margaret… _anyone?_ ”

 

“Of course I do!” His voice was short. “But one thing living with Regina will teach you is that you don’t always get everything you want.”

 

“Would you leave,” Emma insisted, “if you could?”

 

Graham looked away. “She wasn’t always like this. Before, she was almost… human. She’d come here and just… She brought me books. We’d read in the same room. Or we’d eat dinner together. Go for a walk through the woods. We barely touched. I think she just liked having someone who was _hers._ But the last few weeks…”

 

“Her mother died,” Emma explained.

 

“Her mother came back,” Graham corrected. “That’s when it started. We talked about a lot of things here, but never about _her._ Not hard to guess why. You know, sometimes animals will kill another male’s spawn to ensure their own lineage survives. But they don’t hurt their own.”

 

“Emma,” Regina called from the bedroom. “I can’t sleep. Let’s get you back.”

 

Emma ignored her. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked Graham.

 

“I may be hers, but she tends to take very good care of her possessions. It’s the people she doesn’t own I worry about.”

 

“That’s why I’m here,” Emma said. “So she won’t hurt anyone else.”

 

“I didn’t say I was worried about her hurting _them_.”

 

***

 

The car ride back was long, awkward, uncomfortable. Exactly what Regina had wanted. Until Emma realized what Regina was so afraid. Or maybe just what she’d been so hesitant to admit.

 

“How often do you use that spell?” she asked.

 

“As often as I need to. I would hate to wallow in self-pity like you people do every time something doesn’t go my way.”

 

Emma ran her hands over her face. She was tired of trying to figure out Regina Mills. She wanted to, but not today. Today, just… let her be the Evil Queen. “Give me the heart back.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Emma looked at her, with that coy half-smile on her face. Such a lie. How could she enjoy everything with the magic evening her out? “My mother’s heart. You said—“

 

“I said if you learned your lesson you could have it back. That was punishment. You don’t get a reward for taking your punishment.”

 

“I learned about sex magic,” Emma replied. “That should count. And if I’m your apprentice, you should give me some courtesy.”

 

“Why? Gold never gave me any.”

 

“So you’re the same as Gold?”

 

Regina looked at her so fiercely that Emma was frightened she would crash the car, just to hurt Emma. “You really have no idea how generous I’m being with you? A little magic blindfold, a little chipping away at your pride, and you think you’re a martyr. You want it? What’s the magic word?”

 

“Regina, watch the road—“

 

Regina sped up. “The magic word, Emma! What is it?”

 

“Please! Please give me Mary-Margaret’s heart, alright!?”

 

Regina slammed down on the brakes and the car twisted around on the road, coming to a stop right across the lane dividers. Regina reached over and opened the glove compartment. A blood-red glow flowed out onto Emma.

 

“Take it.”

 

“It was in there—“ Emma grabbed the heart up, holding it to her chest protectively. “You—thanks. Thank you.”

 

“Don’t thank me yet.” Regina stepped on the gas again. “It’s not like I’ve put it back in.”

 

Emma blinked. “I’ll… I’ll take care of it.”

 

“Yes. How complicated could it be?”

 

“I’ll ask the Blue Fairy for help.”

 

“With dark magic? Good luck.”

 

“Rumpelstiltskin.”

 

“Oh, because he’s so thankful Mary-Margaret saved him? He won’t interfere in our business, not when his son’s in town. He barely got a reprieve last time, and he knows better than anyone what I’m capable of.”

 

Emma bit her lip. She could’ve growled. “Teach me how to put it back. Please.”

 

“In time.”

 

Emma mouthed an ugly word. Regina’s smile widened. Apparently even the sex magic’s tranquilization couldn’t keep her from enjoying _that._


End file.
